


The fun thing

by irisdouglasiana



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Gen, the fun thing is not necessarily the most pragmatic thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 13:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana
Summary: It wasn’t every day that one came across Peggy Carter tied up and unconscious in a closet in the Roxxon headquarters, but it just so happened to be Dottie’s lucky day, and she couldn’t have been more delighted.





	The fun thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Redrikki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/gifts).



It wasn’t every day that one came across Peggy Carter tied up and unconscious in a closet in the Roxxon headquarters, but it just so happened to be Dottie’s lucky day, and she couldn’t have been more delighted. After easily dispatching the guards, Dottie stepped inside the closet, adjusted the dark blond wig on Peggy’s head so it sat straight, and wiped a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth. Peggy moaned quietly and her eyelashes fluttered. She had the beginnings of a black eye that was going to look magnificent in a few hours. A check of her pupils confirmed that she had been drugged, which was annoying but not an insurmountable problem.

Dottie straightened up and tapped her foot, weighing her options. She wasn’t surprised that the SSR was snooping around, of course, as they tended to leave all sorts of things behind—explosions, severely injured henchmen, nuclear bombs, objects of that nature—and as long as they didn’t inconvenience her own work, there was no issue. But she had obligations to her employer that she still needed to fulfill, and stopping to deal with Peggy would no doubt interfere with her current job. The smartest thing to do would be to kill her and leave.

The _smart_ thing, however, was an entirely separate matter from the _fun_ thing, and there was simply no fun to be had in killing an unconscious Peggy Carter. Dottie picked her up carefully and carried her out into the hall, staggering a little under her weight, and it occurred to her that the _fun_ thing was perhaps not the most pragmatic thing and maybe she needed to reconsider the practical implications of this little detour, but then Peggy shifted in her arms and coughed weakly. She suddenly gagged and retched all over Dottie’s front.

“Really, Peggy?” she sighed, wrinkling her nose. “This was a new blouse. From Bullock’s. It was pricy, but I just _had_ to have it, you know?”  

“You can wash it out,” Peggy said irritably. She coughed again and cleared her throat. “Dottie Underwood, you are—”

“—under arrest? How boring. You’re a bright girl, Peggy; I’m sure you can be more creative than that.” Dottie jostled her a little bit, just for fun, and kept walking. “Now, what's the SSR doing sneaking around Roxxon?”

“It's hardly any of your business. But the other agents will already be looking for me, and I guarantee you it’s only a matter of time before—"

“Hush.” Dottie put her hand over Peggy’s mouth and quickly ducked into a bathroom as a pair of Roxxon employees walked by. Peggy attempted to bite her and Dottie slapped her face lightly and set her down on the floor. She washed the vomit off her blouse as best as she could under the circumstances, touched up her lipstick, and then pulled a syringe out of her bag and flicked the needle. “Would you like to be conscious or unconscious, my dear? I leave it up to you.”

Peggy glared at her silently, and after a moment, Dottie grinned and put away the syringe. “Oh good. I’d rather have you conscious, too. You’re a bit heavy. Thanks to Jeeves' excellent cooking, no doubt.” She knelt down and cut the rope binding Peggy’s ankles and helped her to her feet, leaving her hands tied behind her back. Peggy wobbled for a moment and her face turned pale, but then she closed her eyes briefly and stood up straight.

Dottie paused for a moment. Somewhere back the way they came, she could hear men’s voices. No doubt they would soon discover the guards dead and Peggy missing. They only had so much time left. “Where were you headed, Peg? Control room? The labs? Hugh Jones’ office? The file room?”

“I fail to see what use there is in telling you that.”

Dottie shrugged. “I’m only trying to help you out. File room it is, then.” She grabbed Peggy by the shoulder, spun her around, and pressed her knife into her back. “You go first,” she murmured in her ear. “And if I were you, I would think very, very carefully before trying anything foolish.”

“You’re not going to stab me,” Peggy said with a hint of a smile. “If you wanted me dead, you could have killed me while I was unconscious.”

Dottie rolled her eyes. “How clever you are. Now walk.”

After checking that the hallway was clear, they set off in the direction of the file room at a brisk pace, Peggy stumbling only a few times. Except for a brief run-in with a surprisingly well-armed secretary, they located the file room without incident. Dottie pushed Peggy inside and kept an eye on her while she closed and locked the door. Peggy rested her gaze briefly on a set of file cabinets in the far corner, and Dottie smiled to herself as she knelt down and took her lockpicking kit out of her bag.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Dottie glanced over at her as she selected her tools. “No?”

“Oh. I assumed you would have known that all the cabinets in this room are electrified,” Peggy said matter-of-factly. “They deliver a rather nasty shock if the correct key isn’t used. Well, a fatal shock, actually.”

“Ah.” Dottie set the lockpick down. Her employer hadn’t included _that_ particular piece of intelligence in the briefing. “And I suppose you know where the key is.”

“I do. And I can tell you, but I want something in return.”

Dottie grinned and stood up. “Oh, you think this a negotiation. That’s real cute, Peggy.”

“It is, in fact. No, don’t say anything, let me guess. Right now, you’re considering whether I’m bluffing. You’re wondering why your employer failed to tell you a critical detail. You’re weighing how much time we have before Roxxon employees discover that I’m missing and come looking for me. Your window of opportunity is closing quickly, I’m afraid, and I doubt your employer will be pleased if you come back empty-handed.” Peggy shrugged. “But that’s just what I think. Go on, open that cabinet.”

“I _like_ this game,” Dottie breathed, stepping closer to Peggy. Peggy didn’t flinch or move away, even when Dottie reached out to adjust her wig again and move the stiff strands of hair out of her face. “Name your price, Peg.”

“A fair trade,” Peggy said coolly. “I want to know who your current employer is and what you’re looking for before I tell you where you can find the key. The truth, if you please. And then you’re going to help me find what I came here for.”

Dottie gazed at her for a long moment. Then she told her.

“I suspected as much,” Peggy said with a satisfied nod, and kicked off her left shoe. The key was taped to the sole.

“Seems a bit uncomfortable to hide it there,” Dottie noted as she retrieved it. She unlocked the file cabinet and took note of the wires running along the interior. _A nasty shock indeed._ “It’s very sweet of you to help me out, Peg. I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

Peggy slipped her shoe back on. “You can’t stand trial if you’ve been electrocuted.”

“I see. Not the correct sequence of events, is that it?” Dottie quickly located the file she was searching for and pulled it out. She flipped through the papers, tucked the important ones in her bag, and replaced the file where she had found it. “Your turn. Oh no, don’t say anything, let me guess. You’re looking for the photographs of Dr. Henderson’s work. Project Genesis, I believe?”

“No,” Peggy said a little too quickly.

“Of course not.” Dottie located the correct file cabinet and took the Henderson folder. “I’ll hold on to it for you anyway. I can send it to you later; just tell me which address you prefer. The theatrical agency? The Stark estate? Or shall I drop it off at Chief Sousa’s house? I ought to pay a visit to dear, sweet Daniel—”

Peggy’s face had turned very red. “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” she said through gritted teeth.

Dottie laughed. “I will do as I please.”

They both stiffened at the sound of men shouting from down the hallway. “We’ve wasted too much time,” Peggy snapped. “This place will be crawling with guards any minute now. You’d best untie me—unless you want to be subjected to Hugh Jones’ hospitality too.”

Dottie shoved the folder into her bag, ignoring the last remark. “We’ll turn left out of the file room, and then out the window at the end of the hall into the dumpster.”

“Untie me!” Peggy hissed. “If there are two dozen guards between us and that window, not even you will have a chance of making it out of here.”

“I’ve taken my chances before,” Dottie said with an amused smile. She stepped up to Peggy and turned her around, gently running her hand from Peggy’s shoulder down her arm. She drew her knife and pressed it into the palm of Peggy’s hand, just hard enough to make her bleed, and then cut the ropes binding her wrists together with once quick slice. “And I’ll take them with you, just this once. Now, are you ready?”

Peggy rubbed her wrists and nodded. “Shall we?”

There weren’t quite two dozen guards between them and the window at the end of the hall, more like fifteen, but it was still enough to work up a bit of a sweat. By the end of it, there were fifteen guards on the ground in various states of injury, Dottie’s blouse had been thoroughly soiled, and Peggy’s wig had somehow ended up stuffed in one guard’s mouth.

Dottie brushed a stray hair out of her face and glanced at Peggy, who was still breathing heavily. “We ought to do this more often,” she grinned. “More fun than being tied up and put in a closet, don’t you think?”

“Spare me,” Peggy said dryly as she followed Dottie down the hall, pausing to kick down a guard who was attempting to rise. “For your information, I was doing perfectly fine before you arrived.”

“Getting discovered, drugged, and tied up seems like a bit of an unorthodox approach to stealing documents, but of course, I wouldn’t presume to lecture such a distinguished agent of the SSR on her methods.” Dottie pushed the window open and calculated her trajectory down. “You’ll go fir—” she started to say, and staggered when Peggy landed a blow to the back of her head. For a moment, her vision went blurry. She felt the bag being pulled from her shoulder, and then a sharp shove to her back that sent her tumbling out the window and straight into the dumpster.

* * *

_One week later…_

California really did agree with her, Peggy had decided, in no small part because of Jarvis’s extravagant breakfasts. It had been a little embarrassing at the beginning to be the recipient of this largesse every morning during her stay at Howard’s mansion—thick cut bacon, fried eggs with perfect runny yolks, scones still warm from the oven, freshly squeezed orange juice from the citrus orchard, properly steeped tea, all served precisely at eight o’clock—but she had somehow managed to adjust.

She had just finished her bacon when Jarvis stepped back into the dining room. “Mail for you, Miss Carter,” he said, sliding an envelope into her hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” she said through a mouthful of eggs, and set her fork aside. She frowned and turned the envelope over. There was no return address, but the handwriting looked oddly familiar. She opened it and found a single piece of paper inside.

Peggy sipped her tea and tossed aside Dottie Underwood’s dry cleaning bill with a sigh.


End file.
